


weathered

by hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles)



Series: Tumbling Hudders [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecure John, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huddersandhiddles/pseuds/hudders-and-hiddles
Summary: Some days, John looks in the mirror and all he can see is time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a tiny little thing. It's been on tumblr for a while, so you might have seen it floating around. But I thought it really deserved its own place here, too, because it's one of my faves.

Some days, John looks in the mirror and all he can see is time. The way it’s written into the lines on his forehead and around his mouth. The way it settles heavy and full into the bags beneath his eyes. The way it seeps from every enlarged pore, every pock mark, every scar. He feels the weight of it creaking in his joints as he cleans his teeth, as he shaves, as he runs his fingers through his fringe gone nearly silver now. His days at war, his days at work, his days of worry and regret have all taken their toll, every old memory etched into the crumbling bricks of bone that hold him up, each new sunset carving another fresh tally into his skin so that all the world can count his passing days.

He looks in the mirror and wonders how Sherlock can want this. Want him. Sherlock, who is still lithe and lean and limber. Sherlock, who is still ceaselessly and seductively sharp. Sherlock, who, despite the years, is still just as breathtaking as the day they met.

A distant mumble tells him,  _come back to bed,_ so John takes one last look at the haggard thing in the mirror and sighs. When he steps back into the bedroom, it’s steady and quiet and calm and not at all like running away.

He tries to find comfort in the sleep-slow smile Sherlock aims his way, but the sight of him there–tangled in their sheets, sunlight glowing on his skin, his very existence radiating unimaginable beauty and strength and life–makes John ache in all the hollowed, rotting spaces between withered muscle and brittle bone.

He wants to flee, to fly, to fling himself headlong into danger and daring until he can escape the tick-tock claws of time pulling at his flesh. He wants to curl up and hide and be left alone in his putrefaction, some place far away where his decay will go unnoticed. He wants to do anything but crawl back into bed with this impossible reminder of everything he’s not.

But he does it anyway because what else is there to do when the man you love tells you to?

He’s barely beneath the sheets before Sherlock is on top of him, his long frame caging John in, his hands cupping John’s face, holding him, trapping him there like a wounded thing. _Don’t,_ John starts to say, but the word won’t slip past the dust in his throat and he swallows it back down unsaid. They lie there, the ticking minutes scratching needle-sharp at John’s spine, Sherlock’s thumbs brushing feather-soft over his cheeks, until the contrast is overwhelming. Soft and sharp. Young and old. Sherlock and John. 

He tries to will away the tears he can feel welling at the corners of his eyes, wanting to turn away, to burrow himself into the mattress, but Sherlock just holds him and looks and looks and looks. When John looks at Sherlock, he sees the same man he fell in love with, but he wonders how Sherlock can look at him now and see anything but the old man he’s become. 

When the first tear finally falls, Sherlock brushes his lips against John’s, warm and gossamer and sweet. 

 _I see you,_ he whispers. 

_Only you._

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as [hudders-and-hiddles](http://hudders-and-hiddles.tumblr.com).


End file.
